T.O.A.S.T (OOC) [CLOSED]

[Neo Arcad]

Welcome to That Other Awesome Superhero Thing, or TOAST for short. I was hungry. There might be a better name later.

This is the OOC thread. If you're reading this, that means you can still post your app in the interest thread. Only if I and your peers like it will you be permitted to post it here for acceptance. We probably won't be accepting many people, so hurry up and get over there!

(By the way, until we have all the apps collected here and the interest thread closes, keep all chatter over there. I'd like all the apps to be on Page 1 of this thread, for future use.)

The Golden Age. Some said it was because of World War II, the atomic bomb; that someone out there was looking out for us. That they gave us the tools to protect ourselves from that fate. Maybe I believed that, once. But not anymore. I know what it is now. It's a curse, powers like this. I can kill a man without a lick of effort. Do you know how much strain that puts on me, on my morals, on my will? I never asked for this. I didn't choose that meteorite. It chose me. It all happened so fast, and suddenly everyone looked to us to save them from certain doom. That's the cross we all bore. Nightowl, Jet Woman, the Iron Rider, Chernobog, Paragon Man, Hippolyta- every single one of us was thrust into a situation that changed who we were. Some people took it better than others, but the stress gets to you after a while. Now we're all retired, or dead... so who's going to save the world now? I don't know. I'm finished with being the answer- through, do you hear me? Now get out of my house. I'm not a superhero anymore. Sometimes... sometimes, I think maybe I never really was.

The year is 2012. This RP takes place in the fictional city of Hancock, Upper Michigan, USA. It's always been a big industrial city, and it's got some serious crime issues. The HPD can't handle the types of criminal masterminds the underworld is churning out- at least, not alone. From the streets will rise a band of silent heroes, extraordinary people with extraordinary abilities. They have been drawn together for one purpose: to redeem the lost city of Hancock, to save it from its own demons. Because every town needs a hero or two.

Code: Select all

Name:
Gender:
Age:
Occupation:
Power(s):
Alter-Ego:
Appearance:
Costume:
Traits:
Faults:
Alignment (Chaotic Neutral at evilest):
Bio:
RP Sample:

IC THREAD
viewtopic.php?f=31&t=215548

[Neo Arcad]

"I'm not a hero... never was, never will be."
-Solid Snake

As we go along, this dossier on some of the heroes from the Golden Age will be unlocked. Curious about the Iron Rider or Jet Woman? This is the place to check back on.

[Asterdan]

So you want us to move our apps over here, right?

Name: Gale Austins (shut up Rup!)
Gender: M
Age: 35
Occupation: Watchmaker
Power(s): Telekinesis, CONTROLLED Intuitive Aptitude and minor shape-shifting.
Alter-Ego: Nightblade
Appearance:

Costume:

Traits: Nightblade can be extremely serious, only loosening up around people he knows well. He has morals, but very few, gladly beating a villain within an inch of their life. When not in "costume", however, he is a very kind and caring watchmaker. Gale is somewhat socially awkward, but not terribly so.
Faults: As Nightblade, he can be way too serious, and also violent.
Alignment (Chaotic Neutral at evilest): Lawful Neutral
Bio: Born in a small, mountain town, Gale always knew that he understood things better than most people. Whether it be math, art, mechanics, music or brain surgery, Gale seemed to have plenty of understanding on the subject. All he had to do was to get started on it, and the knowledge came naturally.

He had gotten a job at a forensics lab when the impossible happened. He had been studying the brain of a gunshot victim, when a certain part of the victim's brain seemed to stand out. He examined it for a while, then shook his head. When he reached for a pencil to jot down some notes, the pencil seemed to float towards him. It was then that he learned telekinesis. This happened again a few years later, which is how he learned to shape-shift. However, he could only turn into one thing, as he was fired before he could finish studying it.

Gale then opened up a little watchmaker's shop, using his intuitive aptitude and his telekinesis to fix watches, practicing the shape-shifting in his spare time. After three years, he is now able to shift between three different forms:
Himself
Nightblade
an exact copy of his German Shepard, Poe.
RP Sample: Come on Arcad, you know me. I think...

[Liriena]

Name: Valentin Faustin

Gender: Male

Age: 22

Occupation: Artist (and has a degree in biochemistry)

Power(s):
-Biochemically enhanced agility and dexterity: Uses biochemical substances to enhance his grace and dexterity.
-Toxikinetic combat: Uses grenades, darts, syringes and other gadgets, filled with poisons and other biochemical substances during combat to injure, confuse, distract or disable opponents, as well as enhacing his senses. (Later in the RP, his constant experimentation with biochemical substances will lead to his own body secreting some poisonous and hallucinogenic substances)

Alter-Ego: Chernobog III

Appearance:

Costume: This coat (with a white scarf and black leather gloves and boots), this outfit below and this mask.

Traits: Ingenious, cunning and altrustic, he is willing to do whatever it takes to achieve his goals, and he has the intelligence to get away with it. He is extremely skilled in biochemistry and very cultured.

Faults: Socially withdrawn, self-destructive, increasingly mentally unstable, and becoming more and more disillusioned with society with each passing day.

Alignment: Lawful Neutral

Bio: Valentin is the youngest son of Anthony Faustin, a former Soviet biochemist and the original Chernobog, and brother of Francis Faustin, the second Chernobog. For the past three years, Valentin has taken his brother's place as the famous Dark Poisoner, as the media sometimes called Chernobog, preserving his father's legacy as one of the most feared vigilantes in the United States of the 60's and 70's.

From the moment he was born, Valentin was the neglected son, since Anthony was obsessed with turning the older, athletic and idealistic Francis into the next Chernobog. Thus, it took little time for the youngest of the Faustin to develop a massive inferiority complex, as well as the first few sparkles of disillusion and self-hatred. Both as a child and as a teenager, Valentin was shy and unstable, finding solace in his artistic endeavours while dreaming of one day earning his father's praise and trust, and become a great superhero like him.

Then, when Valentin was fifteen years old, his father was brutally beaten and thrown off the roof of a six-storey building by a gang of criminals he had been investigating. The almost deadly injuries left Anthony Faustin's legs permanently paralized, while his back and most of the other bones of his torso were broken almost beyond repair.

Knowing that his time as Chernobog was over, Valery's father offered Francis to become his successor.

Valentin's older brother gleefully accepted the offer, and immediately began to roam the streets at night as Chernobog. The new hero was more physical than his predecessor, less focused on working for the improvement of society and obsessed with fighting against supervillains to make a name for himself. If Chernobog I had been the epitome of Americans who fought for their fellow citizens, Chernobog II was the epitome of those Americans who only fought for fun and fame. Whereas Chernobog I had been a selfless martyr, Chernobog II was an egotistic populist.

In the meantime, Valentin secretly pursued his greatest dream, becoming a surprisingly successful artist under the pseudonym of Marowit, all the while studying and graduating in biochemistry at his father's request.

However, during one cold winter night, only four years after becoming the second Chernobog, Francis was ambushed and fatally wounded by his archenemy, dying humilliated and alone.

With no one else to turn to, the grieving Anthony Faustin had no choice but to ask his only remaining, untrained son to become the next Chernobog.

The idealistic Valentin, desperately craving for his father's approval, gladly embraced the title of the Dark Poisoner.

But Valentin's Chernobog soon turned out to be an entirely new breed of masked vigilante. Instead of using the already notorious dark armor his father and brother had used, Valentin chose to wear a coat and a raven mask. He did not merely rely on his bare fists and stun-gas (and other gasses that served only to distract foes), like his father. Nor did he use military-grade weaponry and equipment like his brother. To the methods of his father, Valentin added stealth, poisonous darts and syringes, followed by many other innovative and groundbreaking substances and methods.

Now, three years have passed, and while Valentin's life as the artist Marowit has brought him fame, fortune and just a tiny bit of pride in himself, his life as Chernobog III has given him only bitterness and cynicism. While investigating the most atrocious crimes and punishing the most wretched villains, he has felt disappointed by society, finding it corrupt and almost beyond salvation. He has been chastised by the media as a "mediocre and brutal copycat", and not only has he not earned his father's praise, but the elderly Anthony Faustin has openly criticized his only son, telling him that his actions are "far away from the spirit of the original Chernobog".

Slowly but surely, the idealistic freedom-fighter is turning into a Hobbesian enforcer.

RP Sample: http://forum.nationstates.net/viewtopic.php?f=31&t=207156&p=11511195#p11511195
http://forum.nationstates.net/viewtopic.php?f=31&t=210575&p=11804731#p11804731
http://forum.nationstates.net/viewtopic.php?f=5&t=187501&p=9873385#p9873385
http://forum.nationstates.net/viewtopic.php?f=31&t=181081&p=9460645#p9460645

[Orcoa]

Name: Paragon Man
Gender: Male
Age: 68
Occupation: Retired
Power(s): Super Strength, Supersonic Flying, Enhanced Durability
Alter-Ego: Mark Morrison (If you get the references in this name, you get a cookie)
Appearance:

Traits: Caring, Honorable, Leader
Faults: Bitter, Heavy Drinker, Cynical
Weaknesses: Old Age, Over use of powers causes him to weaken, Mental problems.
Costume: a White and Blue suit with red gloves and boots, a long red cape that reaches his feet, and a symbol of his chest with capital P with eagle wings on each side.
Alignment (Chaotic Neutral at evilest): Lawful Good
Bio: Paragon Man or Mark Morrison as he is now known, was the City's Greatest Hero during the golden age of Superheroes. Once a Air Force Pilot flying a new type of Jet during beginning of the Cold War, he was bombarded by a Cosmic Event that lead others to gain super powers and begin the Golden Age of Superheros. Having fought agasint the likes of Mad Scientists, Evil Super-villains, and even a few Demon-Gods, He was known around the world as the Mankind's hero and all around Champion for Truth, Justice, and The American Way....till he retired after his wife Megan Morrison was murdered in front of him by a minor villain looking to make a name for himself.

Paragon man killed this villain, ripping him limb from limb in a violent rage....this caused him to question who he is and made him retire from the world. After putting his wife in the grave, he tried to become a normal man and stay away from the troubles of the world for the sake of his wife's memory. This of course, left him bitter and diving towards alcohol as he tries to rid himself of the memories of his wife's murder and of what he did to her murderer. He has at lest one child from his former marriage, a man named Eliot Morrison who is a officer in The HPD and he has a teenage girl named Ashley who looks up to Grandpa Mark as a hero...even if Mark does not think so himself.

Now the City seems endanger once again, Paragon Man must make a choice....either become the Hero he was meant to be...or disappear like the age that he brought with him.

[Nightkill the Emperor]

Well, what do you know.

[Norvenia]

Name: Fr. Michael Elliot

Gender: Male

Age: 32

Occupation: Priest of the Episcopal Church of the USA; rector of St. Vincent’s Episcopal Church, Hancock.

Power(s):
-Hyperdrenaline: Michael’s body has the capacity to produce, control, and metabolize adrenaline in quantities and intensities far beyond the human norm; this grants him superhuman strength, speed, reflexes, and agility in dangerous situations. Through hypnotherapy, Michael has learned how to call upon and suppress this power at will, and to prevent the irrationality and jitteriness which accompanies normal adrenaline. But while Michael’s body is kept in peak condition, it is still a normal human body. When pushed past its limits and forced to do the impossible by hyperdrenaline, significant harm results: muscle tears, joint damage, nervous degradation. The use of hyperdrenaline leaves Michael exhausted and in grueling pain, and literally takes years off his life. But it also provides an addictive high, a phenomenon dealt with in more detail below.

Alter-Ego: Confessor

Appearance: A tall man, narrow at the waist and hips, thick-chested, broad-shouldered, long-shanked, with powerful arms and hands. Michael is too lean to look burly and too muscular to look slender; the effect is something like an Olympic swimmer. He has fair skin tanned to a pale gold, with a few scars visible on hands and face and many more on chest and back. Michael’s ash-blond hair is worn short, almost in a high-and-tight, and he has surprisingly soft grey eyes.

Costume: Matt-black combat armor, constructed of woven Kevlar soaked in shear thickening fluid, covering lightweight anti-stab titanium inserts, with additional tungsten disulfide inserts over the torso to protect against high-velocity rounds. The effect is slightly medieval, slightly science-fiction-y. There is a dully burnished Labarum of worked bronze on one shoulder pad, and a plain silver crucifix at the center of the armor covering the upper chest; both are securely embedded in the dull black Kevlar that forms the armor’s outer layer. Practical features include electromagnets in the armored gloves and boots, which can be activated and deactivated at will; titanium shot in the knuckles of the gloves, packing enough punch to knock a gorilla senseless; and integrated communications equipment, among many other features. This largely utilitarian armor covers Confessor from neck to foot; his head is covered by a black cloth hood rising from his armored shoulders, which shrouds his face in shadow. But the plain white band of a clergy collar is visible at his neck, just above the armor protecting his throat. Michael typically fights using stealth and martial arts skills only, but he also carries a small arsenal of helpful tools and weapons in concealed compartments built into his armor.

Traits: The standard skills necessary for a basically ordinary man to go toe-to-toe with superbeings: Michael is in peak physical condition, is an expert in numerous martial arts, is proficient in the use of dozens of weapons, is a talented tactician, and possesses a near-genius-level intellect. He is also capable of immense focus, self-control, emotional discipline, and introspection, allowing him to act in a reasoned and pragmatic way even under situations of immense stress. And he is possessed of astounding willpower; he is one of the few men who literally will fight to the death, alone and unnoticed, rather than compromise one inch on principle. Michael is a good priest, to those who know him: forgiving, supportive, always ready with a quiet word of comfort or inspiration or leadership; to his enemies, he is merciless, even brutal, but typically not out of anger. He is a genuine believer in God, and this faith is what gives him strength for a life of struggle. And despite his past and his trials, there is a genuinely good and decent man buried somewhere within Michael’s psyche – if Michael himself only dared to believe it.

Faults: Where to begin? Okay. First, let’s talk about hyperdrenaline. When Michael uses hyperdrenaline, he becomes capable of amazing things; the world seems to slow down, he can punch through walls, and so on. It’s an immense physical high, boosted by the psychological high of feeling free from normal human limits. And from an early age – first by nature, then by training – Michael has only ever experienced that high when he fights. The result is that, in a certain sense, Michael is addicted to violence itself; even if he doesn’t use hyperdrenaline, there’s been a psychological transfer such that destroying other human beings brings a sense of release, almost of ecstasy. This is profoundly disturbing to Michael, even frightening; it speaks of a pit of violence in his soul ready to consume him at any moment, and much that he does is dedicated to keeping this demon under control. This is one reason why he very rarely kills when he can avoid it, and why he is deeply torn about his mission as Confessor: he fears that staring too long into the violence of his own soul might in the end consume him.

This is the basis for Michael’s tremendous willpower and emotional discipline; he keeps his inner demons in check all the time. But this also means that Michael is, broadly speaking, wary of any kind of extreme emotion; he can seem cold and grim, unflinchingly stoic under all circumstances. He doesn’t trust himself enough to respond in a spontaneous emotional way to more or less anything; all of Michael’s emotional life is mediated through the lens of his self-control. This can make it hard for him to form closer relationships than that of the priest to his parishioner.

Finally, there is the physical issue. Michael’s use of hyperdrenaline is exhausting and physically damaging, leaving him with bruised muscles and frayed ligaments, grinding joints and spastic nerves. It is also addicting; every time he uses hyperdrenaline in a fight, even for a moment, the need to use it again – to fight again, to destroy again – grows stronger. It is a demon in a bottle, which Michael has no choice but to release in order to protect others. This paradox – that as Michael protects others, he does physical and moral harm to himself – lies at the center of his character.

Alignment: Lawful Good, and trying like hell to stay that way.

Bio:

Michael Elliot was born in 1980 outside Harlan, Kentucky, to a family of coal miners and ex-Marines: rough people for a rough place, who had lived up in the Appalachian hollers for centuries. Michael’s father had gone to Vietnam as a teenager and used the GI bill to get a college education upon his return, but in the end he found himself right back in the mines. This drove him to despair and alcoholism, and often to violence. Michael was the oldest of four children, and he found himself from an early age forced to act as their protector, taking the beatings so that they didn’t have to.

The ability to produce and metabolize hyperdrenaline was a natural genetic mutation which manifested itself from an early age; Michael would be able to perform superhuman feats on the football field, only to find himself wracked with pain afterwards, and yet yearning to do it again. Gradually, he forced himself to stop voluntarily entering situations in which he would have to use hyperdrenaline; the result was that he only used it when he was attacked, which - this being Harlan County public school – happened fairly often. Gradually, the physical and psychological high of hyperdrenaline came to be inseparably linked with violence in Michael’s young mind.

One night, when Michael’s father was especially out of control, he threw the boy aside and began to beat Michael’s younger sister. Now sixteen, Michael fought back; the hyperdrenaline flooded through him, and he beat his father to within an inch of his life with almost contemptuous ease. The satisfaction he felt in that moment, the fulfillment, has haunted him ever since. When the police arrived to investigate, they realized that no untrained sixteen-year-old should have been able to do such a thing, and contacted the federal government. A few days later, two men in dark suits arrived at Michael’s cell. They promised to get him out of jail, pay his way through any college in the nation, and take care of his family for the rest of their lives. In return, Michael just had to agree to serve his country. Offered a way out of his nightmare, the boy gratefully accepted.

For the next four years, Michael attended the University of Chicago, eventually graduating with honors in history and philosophy; his professors found that while his prior education was almost nonexistent, Michael had a remarkable natural intelligence and absorbed knowledge like a sponge, and he soon surpassed older students with the advantage of years in prep school. At the same time, a black ops division of the CIA known as Section One trained Michael in dozens of martial arts, the use of every weapon imaginable, battlefield tactics, scores of languages, wilderness survival, computer hacking, and countless other skills. Hypnotherapy turned hyperdrenaline from a knee-jerk response into a consciously controlled weapon. When Michael graduated from college at age twenty, he was the U.S. government’s most potent human weapon.

The very next year, the Twin Towers fell. Michael found himself launched into a continuous rota of missions, most of them assassinations. Targets fell in Afghanistan and Iraq; Syria and Iran; Somalia and Yemen; Malaysia and Mindanao. He killed and killed and killed, and his training and unique abilities kept him alive. But with each kill, the allure of violence became stronger, and it became harder to hold the urge in check, the final desire to let all the hyperdrenaline flood out at once, and die in an orgy of destruction.

The missions, too, came to be more and more morally questionable. Michael targeted women and children, the families of terrorist leaders; he blew up schools which were believed to contain weapons stockpiles; he did what the US government could not admit to doing. This culminated when Michael, now twenty-four, was sent to kill Father Richard Bailey, an activist Episcopal priest who had gone to do aid work in Afghanistan and had become a major headache for the Pentagon. Michael found Bailey alone in his clinic. The priest turned and saw the despair in the young man’s eyes, the sense of standing upon the edge of losing his soul, the fear of the inner demons barely held in check. And Bailey smiled, and said quietly, “You do not have to do this all alone.”

So Michael didn’t kill him. Together, the two faked Bailey’s death. The next day, Michael opted out of Section One. The CIA was not best pleased, and told him that they would hurt his family. Michael told the CIA that if they did this, he would take his story to the papers. The CIA tried to kill him. Michael mailed the assassins to Langley in a cardboard box. The CIA chose to leave the young man alone, and have thus far done so – but certain friends and allies of Michael’s inside the Agency remained in contact with him.

Michael, for his part, began attending an Episcopal church and found in religion strength, and solace, and a kind of inner calm, an alternative to the bloody frenzy of hyperdrenaline. Slowly, without really understanding how or why, he came to believe in God. He was baptized, and then confirmed, and then – on the advice of his priest, and searching for a path in life – he attended Harvard Divinity School and was ordained, still only twenty-seven years old.

The young priest was hired by St. Vincent’s, an Episcopal church in a bad area of Hancock, which served as much as a homeless shelter as it did as a place of worship. For a few months, Michael was truly happy: preaching, counseling, running the shelter and the soup kitchen, he had a sense of peace, of productive agency and spiritual fulfillment. And then, one night, a gang of drug dealers came into the shelter searching for a snitch, who had taken refuge there. Michael pleaded with them, begged them to leave. They moved to kill the boy for whom they had come on the altar of the church’s sanctuary. Michael beat them to a bloody pulp instead.

In the days that followed, Michael Elliot came to realize that he could not run from who he was. He was a priest, but he was also a fighter, given gifts by God that few men possessed. It would be sinful selfishness to refuse to use those gifts – however dangerous they might be to his own body and soul – when others so desperately needed protection. He would bear the cost, as he had borne his father’s beatings as a child, that others might live in peace. He sent word to his old friends in Section One, and they covertly provided him with experimental high-technology equipment, including his armored costume. Michael discovered an old rectory in the undercity beneath his church, and turned it into a secret base. And soon, a hooded and armored figure was stalking the rooftops and alleyways of the city, a figure that would suddenly appear behind a man engaged in some wrongdoing and whisper: “Tell me your sins.”

The press dubbed him the Confessor, and the name stuck.

And Michael? The last five years have not been easy on him. The inner struggle goes on, and becomes harder every time he uses hyperdrenaline to defend the people of the city. He has had to kill from time to time, and he is haunted by how little that bothers him. He often hobbles through his days, crippled by the aftereffects of combat and hyperdrenaline use, while simultaneously managing to run St. Vincent’s and provide for his community. But he has chosen his path, and he will see it through now unto the bitter end. He is not a man at peace; but he is, perhaps, at peace with his struggle.

RP Sample: We’ve talked.

[Silician]

Name: He doesn't know.
Gender: M
Age: Mid-20's
Occupation: N/A
Power(s): Superhuman Agility, Superhuman Endurance, "danger sense" (ex. Spiderman).
Alter-Ego: Katana
Appearance:

Costume: What you see above
Traits: An expert swordsman and marksman, you'll always find him with his dual-wielding katanas. He will do anything but take innocent lives to achieve his goal of finding out his identity.
Faults: Angry at times, suffers from PTSD and amnesia (explained more in bio).
Alignment (Chaotic Neutral at evilest): A mix between Chaotic Good and Chaotic Neutral
Bio: He calls himself Katana because of the two swords he uses to fight. Every so often he crosses some petty criminals and decides to "bring them to justice" since he's in the area. He also once saved a woman from a fire. Katana is unsure about his true identity and fights to find the truth about himself. There are some nights when Katana sees the past in his dreams, or at least what he thinks to be his past. These flashbacks trigger traumatic memories which can prove dangerous in certain situations. Even though he can't completely tell what's going on in his nightmares, there's a lot of emotion felt. He often gets irritable due to lack of sleep and mostly keeps to himself. He's not sure how he got his special abilities, but after years of fighting and searching for his true identity, he grew accustomed to it. During his search, he found a person, possibly from his past, that seemed to recognize him, but then he disappeared. Katana continues to try to trace the mysterious person's footsteps, and is getting closer and closer. He eventually learned that there is something much bigger stopping him from finding out who he is, and has reason to believe that whatever that thing is took his memory in the first place. He hopes to find a group of people also with special abilities to help him defeat it.
RP Sample: http://forum.nationstates.net/viewtopic.php?f=31&t=197003

[Agritum]

By the power of Neo Arcad, I am Co-Oooooooooooooooooooooop!

Name:Victoria Swann
Gender: Female
Age:28
Occupation: Journalist/Photographer for an important fashion magazine in the Michigan state. She hates that job.
Power(s): Ice Manipulation
Enhanced Agility
Enhanced Dexterity
Snow Manipulation
Alter-Ego: Arctica
Appearance:

http://i.imgur.com/rnAbp.jpg

Costume: A white bodysuit with light blue stripes passing over it, made of spandex and that goes from her neck to the end of her legs. She wears a butterfly-shaped white mask to cover her eyes.
Traits: Energetic, Bold, Elegant, Well-Mannered, Honest, Helpful
Faults: Stubborn, Ambitious, Inconsiderate (some times), slightly Immature at times, somewhat Superficial at times.
Alignment (Chaotic Neutral at evilest): Neutral Good
Bio: Being a journalist for the magazine "Trendy Michigan" is the secret dream of any aspiring fashion reporter in the State, even more for those in Hancock. The only things regarding Victoria that fit with the predecent description are being a journalist and being from Hancock, Michigan. And if there is something more dangerous than a journalist who dislikes his own magazine, it's a super-powered one that still dislikes it.

Born to a policeman father and an housewife mother with the hobby of tailoring, Victoria exited university as Political Sciences graduate full of good intentions and hopes. That said, her first 8 months post graduation were happy months of unoccupation. Waving away her father's suggestion to get an office job in the Hancock Police, Victoria decided to instead follow her mother's, which consisted in writing for fashion magazines. Afterall, no one reads them, which also means less journalist who would accept such a job.

Arriving at the Trendy Michigan was the start of a personal war between Victoria and the other female journalists that were competing for a indeterminate time contract as a journalist in the magazine. Some of the worst bitches in the universe, basically. Victoria managed to gain the contract after giving a good display of her writing skills, along with her actually being capable of using a camera, instead of her colleagues.

Thus began the odissey that is her current employement at the magazine. Victoria was forced to spend hours and hours writing about totally uninteresting and sometimes outright horrible fashion events, which she of course had to attend and take photos of. Having a terribly ditzy boss that would rival Paris Hilton in matter of airheadness didn't help, too. However, Victoria was paid well, and the magazine actually had quite a public. Who would have expected that?
Due to such a lucrative job and the financial crisis hitting hard, Victoria decided to not drop it, and to endure the plastic world of fashion in all its bluntness.

Still, Victoria had an inconscious desire to improve her life. She had always wanted to write for a more serious newspaper. Maybe to become a foreign correspondant...a war one, too, all for the desire of bringing free and honest information to everyone. With images correlated to the news, too. Not having realized her dreams just made Victoria feel even more miserable. She had even come close enough to think of pouring fuel all over the office building where the Trendy Michigan was located, and burn the wretched magazine down.

Then, one night, Victoria remained alone in the building due to having to finish a few papers for her newest article. She nearly had an heart attack when a loud crash could be suddenly heard, as part of the ceiling of her office came down, a round crystalline sphere falling from it, narrowly avoiding Victoria.

The sphere, which was evidently made of ice, quickly melted, revealing an humanoid lifeform which appeared to be too made from ice. Said lifeform stood up in front of Victoria, stretching his icy arm towards her, the air of the room quickly becoming cooler. It only murmured a few words in rudimentary English. Something among the lines of "Use....it...well...", before putting a small, white sphere of crystal in Victoria's hand, and then quickly melting away.

As a quick reaction, Victoria fainted. Waking up again, she quickly called the police and informed the field officers of what had just happened. Even if superheroes, aliens and magicians were quite a reality in the world where she lived, the policemen just raised an eyebrow at her exclamation, suspecting that she had intentionally damaged the building for the sake of it. She was going to turn the white crystal to them, too, before she abruptly decided to keep it. There was something off about it...

One snowy night, she wandered in the courtyard outside her house, the crystal in the hand. She started to yell random things, ranging from invokations to begging to the crystal to do something, but nothing happened. Victoria was savvy enough to know that whatever the alien had gave to her, it was surely something so powerful that she needed to "use it well", as the ice man had said.

She softly pressed on the crystal. And all hell broke loose. In the matter of seconds, Victoria's entire body was covered by ice, making her stand out as some sort of stalagmite in the middle of the courtyard. She was about to scream at the happening, but the ice quickly melted, as a chill sense of peacefulness engulfed her whole body.

Victoria suddenly felt no more cold, in the wintery night. She held an arm outward, and felt the water particles in the air. And then, she realized what happened. She raised her hands, as a tornado made of snow formed in front of her. She laughed out of the surprise, before beginning to run in the courtyard, jump and climb on the windows of her apartment building, reaching the roof. She looked at the moon, lighting the city with his cool rays. And yelled out of enthusiasm:
"I got superpowers!"

Days after that happening, Victoria returned to her workplace. To her colleagues, she seemed much more cheery than usual. She spent all the day locked in her office, researching on the most comfortable types of spandex, and on bodysuit designs.
At home, she tailored a bodysuit to use as costume, before donning it and stepping in the streets for the first time in it.

This was her chance to improve her life. Her daylife job may have sucked, but she liked the prospective to finally do something useful for the community, be it journalism or superheroics. Afterall, the ice man had said to "use it well". And what could be better than donning some spandex and kicking criminals in the ass?
And then, from that day, the city of Hancock had yet another superhero hitting its streets: Arctica!

RP Sample:Duh, you know me! Yaks!

[Firstaria]

Name: Daniel De Simon
Gender: Male
Age: 24
Occupation: Student
Power(s): Portal creation, 2 at the time.
Super speed/fly, using fast portal creation.
Energy beam, fusing the 2 portal together.
Data Drain, ability to fragment and absorb digital data to heal himself.
Alter-Ego: Mercury
Appearance:

Traits: Funny, Serious when needed, Curious, good with computers.
Faults: Inappropriate, Player, Too Curious.
Alignment (Chaotic Neutral at evilest): Chaotic Good
Bio: Created as digital data, Daniel fused himself with a character he was creating online for an RPG, becoming capable of modifying his body like data and assume his form. Also, he become able to use data as energy to create portals with his hand, and even absorb data to regenerate himself.
He continued having a normal life, although when he's needed he data turns into Mercury and goes to help people. He's not however very lawful, as sometimes he uses his power for personal gain and doesn't have a good relationship with cops.

[Ceannairceach]

Name: Vasily Vitaly Rostropovich
Gender: Male
Age: 33
Occupation: None; unemployed
Power(s): Shadow manipulation, animated shadow, human photosynthesis
Alter-Ego: Duskshade
Appearance: Fuuuuuuuck can't find my picture. Has light brown hair, with intermittent dark blonde that appears to have been streaked in. No mouth to speak of, and is nearly pure white in his color. His eyes are a strange gold color, with black surrounding the colored center. His nose is small, barely noticeable in passing.
Costume: Doesn't have a costume, exactly, due to his obvious appearance, but usually wears a similar set of clothing when out; A dark brown dress longcoat, left unbuttoned to reveal the lighter brown, matching pinstripe vest and pants below. He has a dress shirt underneath, the same shade of chocolate as his coat. His shoes are boots, but hidden under the pants look much like leather loafers.
Traits: Though not particularly dedicated to the cause of good, he is fully dedicated to justice, and even if the responsibility and law is self-enforced and self-created, he is dedicated to that job only. He has something of an iron will, unwilling to bend even when threatened with death or worse. Though working against him in some ways, his detached nature makes him object in decisions regarding the safety of the majority over the minority, or strangers versus friends.
Faults: Absolutely no communication skills, his sentient shadow usually communicates for him, and doesn't always convey the true meaning of his words. Also, he can't use his ability without light to draw his shadow from. Finally, years spent living alone, isolated from humanity, have made working with a partner is contrary to his nature. Finally, his personal code means that he could flip to the villainous side if he feels the order has been compromised.
Alignment: Lawful Neutral
Bio: The fact that he was born in Vladivostok and raised in Artyom is the extent of Vasily's knowledge of his past. The birth record was found in his pocket, along with several rubles and a picture of what he assumed to be his home with a dog in front of it. His first memories are from his eleventh year, when he awoke in a forest at noon, alone and cold wearing wet clothing during the middle of winter. His attempts to moan and scream for help proved in vain, for without a mouth no sound could leave him save for the sound of his hurried exhales and inhales from his nostrils.

The first sound he heard was the voice of his Shadow, its soothing, clear tone easing his mind. Minutes into the conversation, he discovered that the being was, indeed, his shadow, and he could read his thoughts and respond to them. The being told Vasily that he was dark sorcerer by blood, sent to be the dark messiah of the destruction of the world. The hint of sarcasm was obvious, but the shadow never explained beyond this simple, somewhat obvious mistruth.

Over the next six years years Vasily Rostropovich traveled around eastern Russia, wearing a scarf and glasses to hide his lack of mouth and strange eyes, training with his new found "friend" along the way. He pretended to be mute, and worked odd jobs across the roadside towns earning just enough to get to the next town. Some drove him out when they learned of his deformity, but over all, he gained a better understanding of his ability, including his power to not only animate his shadow at will, but also to manipulate its form and shape.

Eventually, he was picked up by a passing circus, a haven for those superhumans with deformities but entertaining powers. He entered the bill as "The Amazing Shadow Dancer," playing with his shadow for the joy of the crowd. Though this new camaraderie with the other freaks of the carnival, he never forgot the harsh lessons he learned on the roads of eastern Siberia, and his personality developed as a fusion of these two ideas.

Eventually he found himself in Moscow, entertaining crowds of ten thousand plus weekly. Nearly becoming a circus celebrity, he abandoned his post one night, stowing away in the shadows of a freighter on its way to America, where the superhuman culture was flourishing rather than withering, as everything withered in Russia. Arriving in America at the age of twenty, he found a world in which people with powers were embraced as heroes, and although he was treated much like all other empowered people, he soon found that the sheer number of people in America with powers drove him into a similar isolation as the lack of people like him had in Russia.

Soon his was driven to Hancock. Molded by his experiences, he formulated a rather deeply entrenched moral code, which he referred to as "the Order of the Universe." He fights to protect this order, and when he originally arrived in Hancock, he did so by robbing the bigwigs of the city blind and politically and personally destroying the corrupt. For a time, he sat on his ill gotten gains, deemed a crime lord and villain by those that knew of his existence.

Recently, however, he sent all of his profits to various charity organizations, and leaked the last of his blackmail to the news media. His outlook has, in a manner, changed; He now views that enemy as the criminals who profit despite the system, and those who use their powers for evil, selfish pursuits. His beliefs are uncompromisable, and he will do whatever he can to level the playing field in the favor of the common man.
RP Sample: ...

[Rupudska]

Name: Perrine Gagnon
Gender: Female
Age: 24
Occupation: Freelance website creator and computer designer.
Power(s):
- Able to 'possess' computer-controlled devices, such as computers, robots, etc. For robots, however, it takes a bit of time to figure out how to work the parts, unless she has posessed it before. If it is connected to the internet, or some other wireless system, she can travel between computers this way.
- Computers she possess have their computing ability - their 'reflexes' so to speak - enhanced by 350% (Overclocking)
- Electrokinesis
- Audiokinesis
Alter-Ego: Ampere
Appearance: Like Konata, but with much darker blue hair. 5'3", washboard-flat, decent muscles, nothing spectacular.
Costume: Tadaa.
Her costume, especially the ribbon-like part, can be controlled with her electrokinesis, as it is made up of a highly conductive material, which is also very strong. When she forms it into a drill (As seen in the picture), it can penetrate all but the strongest metals, namely, vibranium and adamantium. Her hat also has a built-in white mask that covers part of her face, like the Phantom of the Opera. Also, her hat is not that big, and the ribbons on it are only about half as long.
Strengths: She can use her ability to travel through wireless (And wired) communications to travel just about anywhere at light speed. She's also an excellent cook, although she has to be talked into it. She's fairly skilled in hand-to-hand combat as well, but she mostly saves it for the thugs in her area. She is fluent in English, French, and Louisiana Creole. She can turn her (rather thick) accent off and on at a whim. She is an expert programmer and computer designer as well. Godly at video games, especially RPGs.
Weaknesses: She's not exactly the pinnacle of physical fitness. While she's fairly fit and strong, she could be bested physically by many supervillains. She prefers to let her electricity (And costume) do the talking. She loses control of her accent while nervous.
Traits: Outgoing among people she knows off-screen, willing to make friends. Lax, although this could be a fault as well.
Faults: Out of costume, she's rather antisocial, preferring to socialize behind the comfort of an electronic screen than in person. Incredibly lazy while not being paid or superheroing.
Alignment (Chaotic Neutral at evilest): Chaotic Good.
Bio: Perrine was born to a (fairly) wealthy priest in the town of Youngsville, Louisiana, a few miles south of the city of Lafayette, and squarely in the middle of French Louisiana. Her family had a small, beat-up computer that soon got internet access, and this is where and how she discovered her powers. She decided to get into computer engineering and programming, in part because she was genuinely interested, in part to explore and expand on her powers. After years of work, she landed in MIT, where she continued to study computer programming & engineering, and eventually graduated with a full degree.

She eventually moved out of Boston and moved to New Orleans, then [Insert name of city here] in search of work. She plays a bit of guitar on the side.
RP Sample: NO U

[Ronationils]

Name:
Brian Mcaquin
Gender:
Male
Age:
31
Power(s):
Hydrokenisis, Ability to breathe under water, and Shapeshifting (into water)
Occupation
Ex Navy Seal / Swim teacher
Alter-Ego:
H₂O
Appearance:
No Custume
Costume
Costume
The costume is the same as in the picture except blue dark blue and grey. The suit somehow changes forms with him from liquid to solid to gas. He also has shooters on the arms that shoot highly pressurized water out of them. The suit is made of flexible material but is pretty basic. The entire thing is water proof, and through unknown technology the fabric is able to change forms along with him. Brian has often thought that this may work for all other elemental usurers.
Traits:
A very loyal friend
A strong believer in justice
Faults:
He is quickly angered by villains
He can act recklessly
Somehow too loyal (like Percy Jackson)
Alignment (Chaotic Neutral at evilest):
Lawful Neutral
Bio:

In his childhood, Brian Mcaquin had everything he ever wanted. His suburban house in California was perfect. His parents were kind. He was smart, athletic, and likable. The only problem was that both of his parents were broke and the money he got from summer jobs was not nearly enough to make ends meet. Unfortunately, his father was also a big gambler. He lost most of the money he earned and was killed do to an unpaid debt. Brian continued school, but because he didn’t have enough money he did not go to college. Instead, he decided to join the Military. He was planning on joining the Army, but his mother passed away so he decided to join the Navy Seals. He went through rigorous training. The head instructor, Sergeant Nacklin, immediately saw Brian's talent and pushed him harder than all the others. This insane training strengthened his mind and body. This put him in good physical shape for the rest of his life.

After training, his first mission was to go into an Iranian base to check up on them and make sure that the government was not developing chemical weapons. Unfortunately while there he was ambushed. His entire team was killed, but he, Navy Seal, Brian Mcaquin, was taken as a prisoner of war. He had managed to escape death by hiding under one of the missiles. The radiation from the missile, buy it didn't. The Mysterious WALL was surprised by this and brought him back to their base for tests.. While there, WALL performed experiments on Brian and realized that the nuclear radiation as well as the chemicals they had given him, gave him power over water. WALL attempted to use this information to make an army of super soldiers, but at the last second the Navy came to the rescue. When the Navy finally rescued Brian the damage was already done. Due to post traumatic stress he was forced to resign and take a job as a swimming teacher. Although, he was out of the Navy, he still retained his control over water. Over time he managed to control ice, water and, water vapor. Also he could temporarily transform parts of his body into undamageable water. With these powers Brian decided that he still wanted to help people. Using these powers he became H2O, the vigilante of the night who protects the citizens of California.

Present day:

Coach Brian looked out over the pool. Already two or three boys had joined in for his early morning swim sessions. The boys were 12 to 13 but a few were younger. "The pools in Cali have got to get bigger," thought Brian. Brian was used to his neighborhood pools at his house but he would have to suck it up for the time being. The reason Brian was so far away from his humble abode in a village near Hancock, was because of the sightings of Black Hole. Black Hole was a very powerful super villain whom Brian had been chasing for quite some time. When the sightings came out, Brian immediately hopped on a plane to the state of California. So far Brian had no luck, but tonight he hoped it would be different.
" Well," he said breaking his chain of though "I want you to do 10 widths for a warm up. Go!" The boys groaned but Brian just smiled. "Lets make it 20!"

Later that day....

.... Brian pulled on his suit. No H₂O pulled on his suit. Brian was no more. There was no more swim teacher. No more former Navy Seal. Just H₂O the hero this City needed. Brian moved out across the roof tops. Already, there had been police sightings for a man that fit Black's description suit. Brian had followed none of them because he knew Black Hole was too quick for him. He need Black to go closer the water and then he would make his move. Then the call he had been waiting for came.

The police radio cackled," We have a reported robbery by a man in a pitch black suit. The fifth one this night. The witness says that the man is headed out towards the coast and has no companions with hime."

With that, Brian jumped off of the roof and into the nice water of the Ocean. The water felt great. It always did. But today was different, he could feel the raw power of the Ocean behind him. Now all he had to do was wait. "Or rather," he thought with a grin, "anticipate!"


RP sample
I've been away from NS for a while so no new RPs but...
...if these still exist

The Ironcore Resistance
UNIT 2012

Prologue

 The director at the Orphanage for the Underground had worked at the orphanage for 57 years, and he had seen a number of insane things throughout his career. He had seen things ranging from children being hurled through the window into a crib, to an adult trying to impersonate a baby. But, today was a normal, non-unusual day, and he was in the middle of his perfectly normal schedule. He hurried over to his workstation and reviewed the data scrolling past on his computer. He swallowed nervously.
Things in the finance side of the orphanage weren’t going so well, he was head over heels in debt and if he didn’t do something about it, he was going to have to sell the orphanage and give the twenty-three children to the government. Suddenly, the mechanical doors at the front of the orphanage opened with a slight hiss interrupting his train of thought. Momentarily flustered, he glanced up to see a strange woman walking in. She was wearing a dark overcoat and had blond, glossy hair. She had a perfect figure and piercing, blue eyes. Glancing across the lobby of the orphanage, the director stood up behind his desk, which was situated at the back of the room.
He couldn’t help but notice that the mysterious woman bore an expression of uneasiness that was a close match for his own. Just then, his computer emitted a screeching beep signaling that something had happened. On impulse, he grabbed the glasses hanging on his neck and looked down at the numbers for a second. Immediately he felt a small wave of relief as he realized that the data was showing slight signs of improvement. When he looked back up, the woman had already crossed the entire lobby to his desk in a matter of seconds. Startled, the old director let go of his glasses and they hit the table with a creaking sort of noise. After an awkward silence, the director spoke first. “Hello may I help you with anything?”
The woman answered, her breath slightly labored. ”Yes, I have five children for you to take.” This took the director by surprise.
“Uh ... ma'am, I’m sincerely sorry, but I don’t think that is a good idea. You see we have a little debt problem and I don’t think I can take on 5 more children.” The woman stared at him. The director shifted uncomfortably under the strange woman’s gaze.
“Don’t worry” she finally said, a hint of desperation creeping into her voice. “All of your debts will be payed for.” While speaking the last few words, the woman flashed a badge in front of the director’s face. The director squinted as he fumbled for the glasses that he thought were around his neck until he remembered they had fallen. As soon as he put his glasses on and the badge came into focus, he knew that his glasses were broken. They had to be, right? It had looked as if the badge was a government military advisor badge. No self respecting military advisor would be giving any children to a failing orphanage, let alone pay for its debt. As if reading the director’s mind, the woman spoke.
”Don’t worry, the badge is real, and to prove it, I’ll pay fifty, thousand danscaras in cash right now,” The director tried to shut his jaw, but it was as if he had no control over it. All he could manage to say was something he hoped sounded like
“Thank you, but-”. It was undoubtedly illegal, but he couldn’t just waste that money. Then again, if it was true, his orphanage could be saved. The women looked at him with pleading eyes.
“Please take them in, I’m begging you!” The man was torn. He didn’t want to get arrested if the government found out, but he needed the money. Twenty-three kids would be sent to the government to be groomed for war if he didn’t accept. The woman looked at him. Seeing the worry in his eyes she said in a calmer tone, “Don’t worry, you have nothing to worry about. I’ve talked to the officials, and they have agreed to let you keep the money if you take in the kids.” The strange woman handed him a letter.
“This letter is confirmation and proof. I swear.” True to her word, the letter was everything she said. He couldn’t believe it! Twenty-three, now twenty-eight kids would be saved. He hungrily accepted the offer, as the woman’s face adopted an obvious look of relief. She hurriedly handed the orphanage director five baskets, each containing one baby, and ten-thousand dancaras in cash. The woman then walked out into the night. The director smiled. This was definitely a strange day.
As she left, the mechanical doors opened and closed, and the strange woman walked briskly into the frigid night. As she turned a corner and walked into an alley, her overcoat flying behind her, she pulled out a thin item. After turning another corner she put the device against her face and talked into it. Her voice was different from the one she had used to speak to the director. Her voice was deeper and had a slight accent. “Hullo? It’s me, 109. I’ve delivered the children just as you asked.” After a long silence, a chilling voice on the other end cackled. “Finally, my plan shall fall into place as soon as they turn 18.” The voice sent tingles down her spine. The voice continued and said one more thing. 109 paled. Then, the line went dead.

Eighteen years later
Chapter 1
David ran through the alleys like a blur. He kept to the sides of the walls, moving in the shadows. “God I’m stupid,” he muttered to himself. “If they catch me I’ll never get to Kornalef in time for the gate opener.” To anybody who happened to be watching the boy run, he wouldn’t look that odd. David had pretty average looks for his time. He had incredibly pale skin, messy blond hair, stark blue eyes, and big hands. Many layers of clothes and dirt covered most of his skin. Still, this made sense because David was born on the year 3405, in the Underground which made him a member of the 78th generation of Survivors. The term Survivors was used to describe people who had survived the year 2050. 2050 being the year when a disease broke out across the entire world mutating many of the world’s population into what we now call “above-grounders.” For some reason this disease gave the infected above-grounders a craving for human flesh. At first, the Survivors were low in numbers, so in order to avoid capture and mutation, they decided to hide in a series of underground tunnels and caves. This was the beginning of the Underground. Soon the Survivors’ numbers grew, but so did the above-grounders’. In order to keep up with the growing population, a government was formed and all the Survivors were brought together. Soon a military of Survivors was formed, but the dilemma was that almost nobody wanted to go up and fight the above-grounders.
Thankfully, the general of the army brought up the idea of the 18’s during the 45 generation. The 18’s were a competition in which five of the 18 year old Survivors from each of the 16 kingdoms were chosen at random and were sent to the above-ground. Then, after ten days the chosen 5 were judged to decide which faction of the military they would join. That is if they survived of course. This was a productive method that weeded out the Useless from the Potentials. Each 18’s competition started with the ceremonial gate opener, which David was going to be late for if he didn’t escape these kids.
He ran cursing under his breath. This whole thing had started a few minutes ago, and somehow he managed to get himself tangled into this mess. Now, that kid Marco and all his snooty friends were chasing after him with freaking guns. All he had done was stolen Marco’s adopted dad’s (who also happened to be the mayor by the way) old weapon from the 18’s, just a diamond encrusted sword, nothing much. A simple feat, really. It was only guarded by like 7 guards and a laser protected room, which for him was a walk in the park. Unfortunately, he hadn’t anticipated an extra alarm for the exit door that was turned on when anybody entered.
Anyways, he had ditched the sword, but he was still going to have to run if he wanted to get away from them, and make it to the 18’s. Suddenly, the door in front of David flung open and slammed into his face. That was all that Marco and his friends needed to catch up to him. Once they caught up, the whole gang started laughing. “Ha! Look what happened to orphan kid,” jeered one of the kids in Marco’s group. Immediately Marco’s face darkened and the laughter came to a shuddering halt.
“What did you say?” Marco asked, keeping his voice dangerously calm.
“N-Nothing‘ Marco, I just said he was an orph-, oh yeah, s-sorry I forgot that you were an orphan.” He coughed. “Sorry, s-seriously Marco," said the kid.
“Just shut up” growled Marco.
“Anyways” he said turning to David obviously in a better mood now that just about anybody was about to get beat up,
“What are we gonna do about little dirt boy here” he asked, using the term for people like David who lived in the dirt ground. Suddenly, the person who had opened the door in front of David stepped out.
“Back off” the person said. All of a sudden, the gang broke out into laughter. David turned around to find that his “savior” was a girl. It wasn’t that he was sexist or anything, but he wasn’t exactly thrilled with the chances of a girl against 5 boys and Marco who, by the way, was 6 feet of pure muscle. Gradually, the laughter died down.
“Or what?” Marco asked.
“Or someone gets hurt” the girl said calmly, which brought on a new wave of laughter. She seemed strangely relaxed and confident. David wished he had her composed demeanor even if she was no doubt about to get pummeled. Marco and his gang just stood there laughing, and teasing her.
“Did you hear that guys? The little girl’s gonna beat us up!” Another guy called,
“Hey Marco, let’s see how long it takes this girl to scream.” Marco smiled as if it was the best idea in the world, which to him it probably was.
“Let’s see what you got girly” Marco said showing his yellowed teeth. The girl just shrugged indifferently and said,
“you wanna be the first victim? That’s cool with me." As soon as she finished her sentence, Marco and the mysterious girl started circling each other. David saw a glint in the girl’s eyes. Without warning Marco charged at full force. Still the girl smiled slyly. When Marco came to her, she easily sidestepped him, grabbed his wrist, and using his momentum, flipped him. He landed on his back with a thud and an audible crack. As the boys swarmed over Marco, the girl grabbed David’s wrist, and ran with such speed, she was practically dragging him through the alleys. “Where you supposed to be goin’?” was all she said, and he managed to say, “Kornalef”. The girl stopped abruptly and stared at him. This was the first time that David actually saw the girl close up. She had bright green eyes and long brown hair. “You’re going to the 18’s competition too?” she asked. David put his hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath.
“Yea. You too?” She simply nodded. “By the way, my name’s David.” She looked at him up and down, as if analyzing him. She pursed her lips. Finally she answered,
“My name’s Leena.” Just then, they heard footsteps pounding against the streets, and an injured Marco shouting hoarsely,
“Come back here!” Once again, Leena grabbed David’s wrist with her iron grip and sprinted the last couple meters to Kornalef. David was surprised to find out that he had actually made it to the gate opener on time. “Thank God for the new girl Leena” he said under his breath. Leena’s lips curled slightly, as if she had heard him. Then again, she probably had. Leena dragged him into the crowd of people, weaving in and out. Behind them, David heard Marco’s gang barreling through the crowd. Leena tensed. All of a sudden, one of Marco’s minions tripped and fell in front of the other kids in Marco’s group, tripping them and pretty much causing mass chaos. This startled several people, and earned the group dirty looks and comments. Leena once again adopted that sly smile and let go of David, who was starting to lose feeling in his hand. Then she launched herself at the group. Leena quickly kicked the boy who had gotten up first, square in the chest, and after a quick search with her eyes, took his pocket knife. She smiled and moved to the front of the stage at the opening just in time for the beginning gate opener. After a few seconds the Mayor began a quick speech in his obvious old Hispanic accent. Then the dreaded silence came when it was time for the mayor to start calling the participants’ names. The names came in alphabetical order and by ground. The dirt ground always came first. So that meant that whoever the next name called was chances were David knew them. Davids thoughts were immediately interrupted by the Mayors hand making a rustling sound as it swept through hundreds of little slips of paper.
And then the mayor took a lone piece of paper out spoke the first and last name of the first participant in slow perfectly formed words. He said, “David Durning.”

Chapter Two

David felt his mouth go dry. He had expected it of course. There were only two eighteen year olds in the dirt grounds this year, but he had hoped that 50% was good enough. Apparently it wasn’t. David walked over to the podium, keeping his head down. He tripped on the steps, which started a lot of laughter. Red faced, David shuffled to the stage. The mayor looked at him with a slight smile. The next name pulled was Leena Hanim. Leena sprinted up to the podium nearly jumping straight over the steps. David was relieved to see someone who could fight. David started calculating. Leena would definitely be a Potential, and David was far past convinced that he was a Useless.
“Now,” the mayor continued, “the third vict- I mean participant is…” Reaching his hand deep into the box, he read the name, “Calypso Janis”. After a couple seconds of silence, a slight, blond girl with darker than normal skin, walked stiffly up the stairs. She seemed anxious and vulnerable. In David’s mind, he said, “Useless.” The fourth name called was Max Lenim.
The kid Max was just as scrawny as the girl Calypso, but was obviously cocky. You could tell just by the way he walked. As soon as he got up to the stage, Max started talking to the girl Calypso. David saw that Max was comforting her, patting her shoulder and speaking in a quiet voice. David couldn’t tell what they were talking about, but he was sure it was complicated because it had lots of big words. David wasn’t sure about Max, but if he had to guess, he’d be a Potential. He came from the Golden grounds, the richest neighborhood in the Underground, which meant he had his whole life to train for this. Just then, the mayor picked up the last slip from the 5th box. The mayor froze for a second, but recovered quickly. His voice shaking slightly, he announced,
"And our last participant is-" the next name that left the mayors lips was more than enough to startle and petrify David. He just stood there, trying to control his breathing, unable to move from where he was. And all he could think about was his demise and the way the participant would attempt it. In the same shaking tone, the mayor said, “m-my son-Marco Rodriguez.”

...................................

Don't excpect that long of a post for many if any of my posts. The text wall sample took a couple of days. Excpect the length of the one or two paragraphs per post.

Mongoose

[Grand Europa]

So about those mongooses.

[Encara]

Mongoooooose!

And my official app


Name: Jackson Riggs
Alias: Antaeus (he took this name from the Greek myth which he felt fit him in a way)

Origin: taken from a small newspaper clipping "Prodigy turns to Tragedy... Jackson Riggs the young Wrestling prodigy, considered to be a "sure thing" for the upcoming Olympics was met with tragedy during practice at his college, St. Augustine, Thursday evening. While practicing with teammate Rodney Beau-Cook, Riggs was thrown and landed head first off the mats on the gyms hardwood floor. Taken to the hospital Riggs prognosis remains bleak, Riggs has yet to regain consciousness after 48 hours in the local hospital. St. Augustine's coach Mike Owen commented on Riggs condition "our heart goes out to his family, our team will be incomplete without his talent and motivation. We continue to pray the swelling of his brain goes down and hope he wakes up without permanent damage"... The rest of the article missing from the clipping.
Riggs was on life support for nearly 2 years in a comatose state before he awoke, to the doctors amazement with no long term damage, he was left emotionally scarred his Olympic dreams long behind him, as well as his so-called friends moving on without him. Before his hospital release Jackson was admitted into the psychiatric ward before he learned to hide his new found powers.

Occupation resumed status as a Student, works part time in the school library

Powers: psychometric; (gaining knowledge through physical contact both human and inanimate objects) in humans it only manifests to read surface thoughts, although he is able to sift deeper through prolonged uninterrupted contact, even more so with a willing participant. He also can sense psychic influence within a mind that he's touched. In objects it's somewhat undeveloped, most often giving him knowledge of the objects past, although sometimes he receives future premonitions connected to the object.

Enhanced Reflexes; An accumulation of years of physical training and conditioning along with his natural talents, Antaeus' psychometric abilities translate nearly to instinct in combat. Once physical contact has been made, whether be it by fist or blade, he gains an unnatural understanding of his assailants fighting style nearly able to predict their next move. While disadvantaged by ranged attacks, landing a second blow on him sometimes seems impossible and even when it is accomplished he is usually able to maneuver enough to minimize the damage.

Heightened Pain Tolerance; while not possessing super strength or superhuman healing, Riggs shrugs off most wounds that would cause a normal man to drop to the ground clutching the source in pain. Whether this is a "power" or results of nerve damage from his injury are still to be determined.
Traits:Has a strong moral code, well mannered, typically has a loud conscience and will voice it.
Faults:can be extremely emotional, especially after intense visions. Often sees good in those who aren't. Reactionary, seldom does he move first, which he's learning can put lives at risk. Has a cocky attitude, and an obnoxious need to correct people when they make simple mistakes.

Alignment Lawful sometimes bordering Chaotic Good, has a very strong moral code
Appearance: as a civilian Riggs is a white male age 23 approximately 5'9". Typically wearing baggy clothes and gloves he usually avoids physical contact with people and objects since sometimes his visions become rather jarring. Sandy brown hair with a light tan and muscular build, he now dawns a deep crimson spandex suit adorned with a gold open palm on both shoulders and a mask that covers all but his eyes, mouth, and jawline. His suit does not cover his hands at all needing them for his ability to function in combat, although he has been known to wear black leather gloves doing passive surveillance to avoid unwanted distractions.

Currently Antaeus patrols alone, not that he is a loner although his powers sometimes make him seem aloof and stand-offish he is actually quite friendly and prefers the company of others, unlike other super heroes that Antaeus aspires to be he is relatively unknown, being new to crime fighting his psychometric powers are usually the only thing that leads him into the fray, with little criminal or investigative background often he just doesn't know where to look until he finds the right person or item to read.

Antaeus Rising (The First deed)

The wind carried a chill with it that day, Jackson scolded himself for forgetting his coat and gloves at home and walked briskly through the campus. It was a long day, Finals week was here which not only meant a stressful days classes but the school library where he worked was never busier than now.
Jackson rubbed his hands together exhaling what warmth he could provide to take the chill off the night air. He began his usual route home to his apartment, once off campus it was only a few miles walk in the brisk night air.
Jackson stopped short at the corner of a narrow alley, sidestepping at the last moment to avoid running into a tall hooded man moving out of the dark alley. Jacksons eyes followed the man as he passed who seemingly ignored the fact that he'd nearly slammed into Jackson. Jacks saw a small gold locket hit the ground by his feet, instinctually Jackson called out to the man, "Sir, you dropped this" he said kneeling down to pick up the locket, the man only a few steps away turned flashing a smug grin.
As Jackson felt the cool gold chain drape his fingers he trembled, his vision momentarily blurred. He could see the man hovering over him thrusting back and forth, a sickly sweet breath washing over his face, he frantically looked about, he could see a torn blouse as the mans hands fondled at his breast, a small gasping "please no" in a woman's voice escaped his lungs before a hand clamped down on his throat. He felt a knife penetrating his gut and as his vision began to blur the last thing he saw was the locket torn from around his neck.
Jackson looked up, the man was now standing over him, hand outstretched waiting for the locket, rage boiled through his veins. He lunged upward from his knees, as he had a thousand times before catching the man in a Greco-roman throw. The hooded figures head and shoulder hit the concrete first with a sickening thud. Jackson was atop him in an instant lifting and thrusting the mans head back into the concrete repeatedly. Jacks didn't know how long this went on, the next thing he knew a couple screamed from across the street and the mans body was limp.
Jacks began running half delirious through back alleys and side streets. Finally as his body neared exhaustion stopped. He didn't recognize this part of town, it was very run down, he heard sirens in the distance and panicked running into a small church, St. Vincents, his heart sank looking at the man hanging down from the cross. His throat welled, his eyes poured, a voice came from behind. "what is the matter my child?". Jackson turned seeing a man he would come to know as Father Elliot for the first time, "Father, I've, I've..." Jackson's voice could barely bring to words what he had done, yet inside him he felt alive, he could hardly bare the guilt of murdering someone in a white hot rage, but something in his mind kept telling him, you've done right, what needed to be done, she is avenged...

hopefully you don't mind this intro using Father Elliot, Norvenia if so I can alter it.

[Rupudska]

Atilax paludinosus, Bdeogale crassicauda, Bdeogale jacksoni, Bdeogale nigripes, Bdeogale omnivora, Crossarchus alexandri, Crossarchus ansorgei, Crossarchus obscurus, Crossarchus platycephalus, Cynictis penicillata, Dologale dybowskii, Galerella flavescens, Galerella ochracea, Galerella pulverulenta, Galerella sanguinea, Helogale hirtula, Helogale parvula, Herpestes brachyurus, Herpestes edwardsii, Herpestes fuscus, Herpestes ichneumon, Herpestes javanicus, Herpestes naso, Herpestes semitorquatus, Herpestes smithii, Herpestes urva, Herpestes vitticollis, Ichneumia albicauda, Liberiictis kuhni, Mungos gambianus, Mungos mungo, Paracynictis selousi, Rhynchogale melleri, Suricata suricatta.

What? You said something about a mongoose. You need to be more specific next time, Card.

[Liriena]

MONGOOSE

[Orcoa]

Mongoose

[Ronationils]

Name:
Brian Mcaquin
Gender:
Male
Age:
31
Power(s):
Hydrokenisis, Ability to breathe under water, and Shapeshifting (into water)
Occupation
Ex Navy Seal / Swim teacher
Alter-Ego:
H₂O
Appearance:
No Custume
Costume
Costume
The costume is the same as in the picture except blue dark blue and grey. The suit somehow changes forms with him from liquid to solid to gas. He also has shooters on the arms that shoot highly pressurized water out of them. The suit is made of flexible material but is pretty basic. The entire thing is water proof, and through unknown technology the fabric is able to change forms along with him. Brian has often thought that this may work for all other elemental usurers.
Traits:
A very loyal friend
A strong believer in justice
Faults:
He is quickly angered by villains
He can act recklessly
Somehow too loyal (like Percy Jackson)
Alignment (Chaotic Neutral at evilest):
Lawful Neutral
Bio:

In his childhood, Brian Mcaquin had everything he ever wanted. His suburban house in California was perfect. His parents were kind. He was smart, athletic, and likable. The only problem was that both of his parents were broke and the money he got from summer jobs was not nearly enough to make ends meet. Unfortunately, his father was also a big gambler. He lost most of the money he earned and was killed do to an unpaid debt. Brian continued school, but because he didn’t have enough money he did not go to college. Instead, he decided to join the Military. He was planning on joining the Army, but his mother passed away so he decided to join the Navy Seals. He went through rigorous training. The head instructor, Sergeant Nacklin, immediately saw Brian's talent and pushed him harder than all the others. This insane training strengthened his mind and body. This put him in good physical shape for the rest of his life.

After training, his first mission was to go into an Iranian base to check up on them and make sure that the government was not developing chemical weapons. Unfortunately while there he was ambushed. His entire team was killed, but he, Navy Seal, Brian Mcaquin, was taken as a prisoner of war. He had managed to escape death by hiding under one of the missiles. The radiation from the missile, knocked him out ,but, unlike it was supposed to, it didn't kill him . The Mysterious WALL was surprised by this and brought him back to their base for tests.. While there, WALL performed experiments on Brian and realized that the nuclear radiation as well as the chemicals they had given him, gave him power over water. WALL attempted to use this information to make an army of super soldiers, but at the last second the Navy came to the rescue. When the Navy finally rescued Brian the damage was already done. Due to post traumatic stress he was forced to resign and take a job as a swimming teacher. Although, he was out of the Navy, he still retained his control over water. Over time he managed to control ice, water and, water vapor. Also he could temporarily transform parts of his body into undamageable water. With these powers Brian decided that he still wanted to help people. Using these powers he became H2O, the vigilante of the night who protects the citizens of California.

Present day:

Coach Brian looked out over the pool. Already two or three boys had joined in for his early morning swim sessions. The boys were 12 to 13 but a few were younger. "The pools in Cali have got to get bigger," thought Brian. Brian was used to his neighborhood pools at his house but he would have to suck it up for the time being. The reason Brian was so far away from his humble abode in a village near Hancock, was because of the sightings of Black Hole. Black Hole was a very powerful super villain whom Brian had been chasing for quite some time. When the sightings came out, Brian immediately hopped on a plane to the state of California. So far Brian had no luck, but tonight he hoped it would be different.
" Well," he said breaking his chain of though "I want you to do 10 widths for a warm up. Go!" The boys groaned but Brian just smiled. "Lets make it 20!"

Later that day....

.... Brian pulled on his suit. No H₂O pulled on his suit. Brian was no more. There was no more swim teacher. No more former Navy Seal. Just H₂O the hero this City needed. Brian moved out across the roof tops. Already, there had been police sightings for a man that fit Black's description suit. Brian had followed none of them because he knew Black Hole was too quick for him. He need Black to go closer the water and then he would make his move. Then the call he had been waiting for came.

The police radio cackled," We have a reported robbery by a man in a pitch black suit. The fifth one this night. The witness says that the man is headed out towards the coast and has no companions with hime."

With that, Brian jumped off of the roof and into the nice water of the Ocean. The water felt great. It always did. But today was different, he could feel the raw power of the Ocean behind him. Now all he had to do was wait. "Or rather," he thought with a grin, "anticipate!"


RP sample
I've been away from NS for a while so no new RPs but...
...if these still exist

The Ironcore Resistance
UNIT 2012

Prologue

 The director at the Orphanage for the Underground had worked at the orphanage for 57 years, and he had seen a number of insane things throughout his career. He had seen things ranging from children being hurled through the window into a crib, to an adult trying to impersonate a baby. But, today was a normal, non-unusual day, and he was in the middle of his perfectly normal schedule. He hurried over to his workstation and reviewed the data scrolling past on his computer. He swallowed nervously.
Things in the finance side of the orphanage weren’t going so well, he was head over heels in debt and if he didn’t do something about it, he was going to have to sell the orphanage and give the twenty-three children to the government. Suddenly, the mechanical doors at the front of the orphanage opened with a slight hiss interrupting his train of thought. Momentarily flustered, he glanced up to see a strange woman walking in. She was wearing a dark overcoat and had blond, glossy hair. She had a perfect figure and piercing, blue eyes. Glancing across the lobby of the orphanage, the director stood up behind his desk, which was situated at the back of the room.
He couldn’t help but notice that the mysterious woman bore an expression of uneasiness that was a close match for his own. Just then, his computer emitted a screeching beep signaling that something had happened. On impulse, he grabbed the glasses hanging on his neck and looked down at the numbers for a second. Immediately he felt a small wave of relief as he realized that the data was showing slight signs of improvement. When he looked back up, the woman had already crossed the entire lobby to his desk in a matter of seconds. Startled, the old director let go of his glasses and they hit the table with a creaking sort of noise. After an awkward silence, the director spoke first. “Hello may I help you with anything?”
The woman answered, her breath slightly labored. ”Yes, I have five children for you to take.” This took the director by surprise.
“Uh ... ma'am, I’m sincerely sorry, but I don’t think that is a good idea. You see we have a little debt problem and I don’t think I can take on 5 more children.” The woman stared at him. The director shifted uncomfortably under the strange woman’s gaze.
“Don’t worry” she finally said, a hint of desperation creeping into her voice. “All of your debts will be payed for.” While speaking the last few words, the woman flashed a badge in front of the director’s face. The director squinted as he fumbled for the glasses that he thought were around his neck until he remembered they had fallen. As soon as he put his glasses on and the badge came into focus, he knew that his glasses were broken. They had to be, right? It had looked as if the badge was a government military advisor badge. No self respecting military advisor would be giving any children to a failing orphanage, let alone pay for its debt. As if reading the director’s mind, the woman spoke.
”Don’t worry, the badge is real, and to prove it, I’ll pay fifty, thousand danscaras in cash right now,” The director tried to shut his jaw, but it was as if he had no control over it. All he could manage to say was something he hoped sounded like
“Thank you, but-”. It was undoubtedly illegal, but he couldn’t just waste that money. Then again, if it was true, his orphanage could be saved. The women looked at him with pleading eyes.
“Please take them in, I’m begging you!” The man was torn. He didn’t want to get arrested if the government found out, but he needed the money. Twenty-three kids would be sent to the government to be groomed for war if he didn’t accept. The woman looked at him. Seeing the worry in his eyes she said in a calmer tone, “Don’t worry, you have nothing to worry about. I’ve talked to the officials, and they have agreed to let you keep the money if you take in the kids.” The strange woman handed him a letter.
“This letter is confirmation and proof. I swear.” True to her word, the letter was everything she said. He couldn’t believe it! Twenty-three, now twenty-eight kids would be saved. He hungrily accepted the offer, as the woman’s face adopted an obvious look of relief. She hurriedly handed the orphanage director five baskets, each containing one baby, and ten-thousand dancaras in cash. The woman then walked out into the night. The director smiled. This was definitely a strange day.
As she left, the mechanical doors opened and closed, and the strange woman walked briskly into the frigid night. As she turned a corner and walked into an alley, her overcoat flying behind her, she pulled out a thin item. After turning another corner she put the device against her face and talked into it. Her voice was different from the one she had used to speak to the director. Her voice was deeper and had a slight accent. “Hullo? It’s me, 109. I’ve delivered the children just as you asked.” After a long silence, a chilling voice on the other end cackled. “Finally, my plan shall fall into place as soon as they turn 18.” The voice sent tingles down her spine. The voice continued and said one more thing. 109 paled. Then, the line went dead.

Eighteen years later
Chapter 1
David ran through the alleys like a blur. He kept to the sides of the walls, moving in the shadows. “God I’m stupid,” he muttered to himself. “If they catch me I’ll never get to Kornalef in time for the gate opener.” To anybody who happened to be watching the boy run, he wouldn’t look that odd. David had pretty average looks for his time. He had incredibly pale skin, messy blond hair, stark blue eyes, and big hands. Many layers of clothes and dirt covered most of his skin. Still, this made sense because David was born on the year 3405, in the Underground which made him a member of the 78th generation of Survivors. The term Survivors was used to describe people who had survived the year 2050. 2050 being the year when a disease broke out across the entire world mutating many of the world’s population into what we now call “above-grounders.” For some reason this disease gave the infected above-grounders a craving for human flesh. At first, the Survivors were low in numbers, so in order to avoid capture and mutation, they decided to hide in a series of underground tunnels and caves. This was the beginning of the Underground. Soon the Survivors’ numbers grew, but so did the above-grounders’. In order to keep up with the growing population, a government was formed and all the Survivors were brought together. Soon a military of Survivors was formed, but the dilemma was that almost nobody wanted to go up and fight the above-grounders.
Thankfully, the general of the army brought up the idea of the 18’s during the 45 generation. The 18’s were a competition in which five of the 18 year old Survivors from each of the 16 kingdoms were chosen at random and were sent to the above-ground. Then, after ten days the chosen 5 were judged to decide which faction of the military they would join. That is if they survived of course. This was a productive method that weeded out the Useless from the Potentials. Each 18’s competition started with the ceremonial gate opener, which David was going to be late for if he didn’t escape these kids.
He ran cursing under his breath. This whole thing had started a few minutes ago, and somehow he managed to get himself tangled into this mess. Now, that kid Marco and all his snooty friends were chasing after him with freaking guns. All he had done was stolen Marco’s adopted dad’s (who also happened to be the mayor by the way) old weapon from the 18’s, just a diamond encrusted sword, nothing much. A simple feat, really. It was only guarded by like 7 guards and a laser protected room, which for him was a walk in the park. Unfortunately, he hadn’t anticipated an extra alarm for the exit door that was turned on when anybody entered.
Anyways, he had ditched the sword, but he was still going to have to run if he wanted to get away from them, and make it to the 18’s. Suddenly, the door in front of David flung open and slammed into his face. That was all that Marco and his friends needed to catch up to him. Once they caught up, the whole gang started laughing. “Ha! Look what happened to orphan kid,” jeered one of the kids in Marco’s group. Immediately Marco’s face darkened and the laughter came to a shuddering halt.
“What did you say?” Marco asked, keeping his voice dangerously calm.
“N-Nothing‘ Marco, I just said he was an orph-, oh yeah, s-sorry I forgot that you were an orphan.” He coughed. “Sorry, s-seriously Marco," said the kid.
“Just shut up” growled Marco.
“Anyways” he said turning to David obviously in a better mood now that just about anybody was about to get beat up,
“What are we gonna do about little dirt boy here” he asked, using the term for people like David who lived in the dirt ground. Suddenly, the person who had opened the door in front of David stepped out.
“Back off” the person said. All of a sudden, the gang broke out into laughter. David turned around to find that his “savior” was a girl. It wasn’t that he was sexist or anything, but he wasn’t exactly thrilled with the chances of a girl against 5 boys and Marco who, by the way, was 6 feet of pure muscle. Gradually, the laughter died down.
“Or what?” Marco asked.
“Or someone gets hurt” the girl said calmly, which brought on a new wave of laughter. She seemed strangely relaxed and confident. David wished he had her composed demeanor even if she was no doubt about to get pummeled. Marco and his gang just stood there laughing, and teasing her.
“Did you hear that guys? The little girl’s gonna beat us up!” Another guy called,
“Hey Marco, let’s see how long it takes this girl to scream.” Marco smiled as if it was the best idea in the world, which to him it probably was.
“Let’s see what you got girly” Marco said showing his yellowed teeth. The girl just shrugged indifferently and said,
“you wanna be the first victim? That’s cool with me." As soon as she finished her sentence, Marco and the mysterious girl started circling each other. David saw a glint in the girl’s eyes. Without warning Marco charged at full force. Still the girl smiled slyly. When Marco came to her, she easily sidestepped him, grabbed his wrist, and using his momentum, flipped him. He landed on his back with a thud and an audible crack. As the boys swarmed over Marco, the girl grabbed David’s wrist, and ran with such speed, she was practically dragging him through the alleys. “Where you supposed to be goin’?” was all she said, and he managed to say, “Kornalef”. The girl stopped abruptly and stared at him. This was the first time that David actually saw the girl close up. She had bright green eyes and long brown hair. “You’re going to the 18’s competition too?” she asked. David put his hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath.
“Yea. You too?” She simply nodded. “By the way, my name’s David.” She looked at him up and down, as if analyzing him. She pursed her lips. Finally she answered,
“My name’s Leena.” Just then, they heard footsteps pounding against the streets, and an injured Marco shouting hoarsely,
“Come back here!” Once again, Leena grabbed David’s wrist with her iron grip and sprinted the last couple meters to Kornalef. David was surprised to find out that he had actually made it to the gate opener on time. “Thank God for the new girl Leena” he said under his breath. Leena’s lips curled slightly, as if she had heard him. Then again, she probably had. Leena dragged him into the crowd of people, weaving in and out. Behind them, David heard Marco’s gang barreling through the crowd. Leena tensed. All of a sudden, one of Marco’s minions tripped and fell in front of the other kids in Marco’s group, tripping them and pretty much causing mass chaos. This startled several people, and earned the group dirty looks and comments. Leena once again adopted that sly smile and let go of David, who was starting to lose feeling in his hand. Then she launched herself at the group. Leena quickly kicked the boy who had gotten up first, square in the chest, and after a quick search with her eyes, took his pocket knife. She smiled and moved to the front of the stage at the opening just in time for the beginning gate opener. After a few seconds the Mayor began a quick speech in his obvious old Hispanic accent. Then the dreaded silence came when it was time for the mayor to start calling the participants’ names. The names came in alphabetical order and by ground. The dirt ground always came first. So that meant that whoever the next name called was chances were David knew them. Davids thoughts were immediately interrupted by the Mayors hand making a rustling sound as it swept through hundreds of little slips of paper.
And then the mayor took a lone piece of paper out spoke the first and last name of the first participant in slow perfectly formed words. He said, “David Durning.”

Chapter Two

David felt his mouth go dry. He had expected it of course. There were only two eighteen year olds in the dirt grounds this year, but he had hoped that 50% was good enough. Apparently it wasn’t. David walked over to the podium, keeping his head down. He tripped on the steps, which started a lot of laughter. Red faced, David shuffled to the stage. The mayor looked at him with a slight smile. The next name pulled was Leena Hanim. Leena sprinted up to the podium nearly jumping straight over the steps. David was relieved to see someone who could fight. David started calculating. Leena would definitely be a Potential, and David was far past convinced that he was a Useless.
“Now,” the mayor continued, “the third vict- I mean participant is…” Reaching his hand deep into the box, he read the name, “Calypso Janis”. After a couple seconds of silence, a slight, blond girl with darker than normal skin, walked stiffly up the stairs. She seemed anxious and vulnerable. In David’s mind, he said, “Useless.” The fourth name called was Max Lenim.
The kid Max was just as scrawny as the girl Calypso, but was obviously cocky. You could tell just by the way he walked. As soon as he got up to the stage, Max started talking to the girl Calypso. David saw that Max was comforting her, patting her shoulder and speaking in a quiet voice. David couldn’t tell what they were talking about, but he was sure it was complicated because it had lots of big words. David wasn’t sure about Max, but if he had to guess, he’d be a Potential. He came from the Golden grounds, the richest neighborhood in the Underground, which meant he had his whole life to train for this. Just then, the mayor picked up the last slip from the 5th box. The mayor froze for a second, but recovered quickly. His voice shaking slightly, he announced,
"And our last participant is-" the next name that left the mayors lips was more than enough to startle and petrify David. He just stood there, trying to control his breathing, unable to move from where he was. And all he could think about was his demise and the way the participant would attempt it. In the same shaking tone, the mayor said, “m-my son-Marco Rodriguez.”

...................................

Don't excpect that long of a post for many if any of my posts. The text wall sample took a couple of days. Excpect the length of the one or two paragraphs per post.

Mongoose

Mongoose (finale)

[Silician]

Name: He doesn't know.
Gender: M
Age: Mid-20's
Occupation: N/A
Power(s): Superhuman Agility, Superhuman Endurance, "danger sense" (ex. Spiderman).
Alter-Ego: Katana
Appearance:

(Image)

Costume: What you see above
Traits: An expert swordsman and marksman, you'll always find him with his dual-wielding katanas. He will do anything but take innocent lives to achieve his goal of finding out his identity.
Faults: Angry at times, suffers from PTSD and amnesia (explained more in bio).
Alignment (Chaotic Neutral at evilest): A mix between Chaotic Good and Chaotic Neutral
Bio: He calls himself Katana because of the two swords he uses to fight. Every so often he crosses some petty criminals and decides to "bring them to justice" since he's in the area. He also once saved a woman from a fire. Katana is unsure about his true identity and fights to find the truth about himself. There are some nights when Katana sees the past in his dreams, or at least what he thinks to be his past. These flashbacks trigger traumatic memories which can prove dangerous in certain situations. Even though he can't completely tell what's going on in his nightmares, there's a lot of emotion felt. He often gets irritable due to lack of sleep and mostly keeps to himself. He's not sure how he got his special abilities, but after years of fighting and searching for his true identity, he grew accustomed to it. During his search, he found a person, possibly from his past, that seemed to recognize him, but then he disappeared. Katana continues to try to trace the mysterious person's footsteps, and is getting closer and closer. He eventually learned that there is something much bigger stopping him from finding out who he is, and has reason to believe that whatever that thing is took his memory in the first place. He hopes to find a group of people also with special abilities to help him defeat it.
RP Sample: http://forum.nationstates.net/viewtopic.php?f=31&t=197003

Good thing I checked the Interest thread again, I had no idea what was going on. MONGOOSE

[Ceannairceach]

Mongooses.

[Norvenia]

Le mongoose.

[Agritum]

EPIC CO-OP ALERT FOR NEO ARCAD

MONGOOSE!

[Neo Arcad]

Ok, there's eleven of us. I'm going to cut it off now. There will be a two-hour grace period for anyone I forgot, though I don't think there is. That period ends at 9:00 EST.

[Neo Arcad]

I think we ought to plan this out like a TV show, in "Episodes", each of which gets its own thread. So here's the story for the pilot episode:

The city of Hancock has gone for years without the protection of its guardian angel, Paragon Man. It has since slipped into crime and violence. Small-time vigilante superheroes have begun to arise, in order to combat the rising tide of evil; but they are alone, isolated, and untrained. So when a more dangerous villain than ever before, with superpowers of his own, attempts to hold the city hostage, it will take all the warriors of justice that Hancock can muster to defeat him.